i rose from a dream; we were running

Today and I weren't going to get along. I knew that going to sleep last night, waking up in the middle of the night and trying to suffocate the dread in my stomach long enough to sleep until the morning. Today was The Day, the one where we would meet with Ethan's GI doctor in the afternoon and go over his bloodwork results and would find out once and for all if he actually had Celiac disease now that we knew he had a marker.

Dealing with Celiac is tricky. While, yes, obviously things could be worse, Ethan having the marker for Celiac was still this big black hole in my heart that I couldn't even begin to touch. I didn't want to think about it until I had to and, well, as of today, I had to.

Ethan and I got to the office early. Twenty minutes early, to be exact. Something about being anxious at home and feeling the walls close in on us (or me, rather, as Ethan was quite content playing with his toys in his playroom). Something about the stagnancy of the indoors and the inability to find comfort. It was easier to just get in the car and make the short drive to the medical center where we sat in the grass by the lake and fed the ducks the pile of O's that Ethan had dumped on the floor of the car. We fed the ducks and ignored both the heat and the looming black clouds and just sat for the last moments before our lives could become different, quacking and laughing and tossing soggy multi-grain cereal to the ducks and birds.

My husband met us in the exam room just as they were weighing Ethan. The nurse told me not to leave a wet diaper on him but I was too frazzled and left a wet diaper on him anyway. She didn't seem to notice. The doctor came in and I couldn't decide if I wanted to sit or stand or breathe or not breathe but then he smiled and blurted out that everything was fine, Ethan was fine, he didn't have Celiac, he just had to get that out of the way before we discussed anything else at all. Then I could breathe and my main issue was focusing on not jumping up and squeezing the life out of Ethan's doctor in the biggest hug possible.

I stared at the copies of Ethan's labwork the entire drive home. I stole peeks of it at every red light that we hit. Negative. The word just kept popping out to me, like something beautiful and majestic and entrancing that I couldn't keep my eyes off of. It was like my heart just breathed the biggest sigh of relief.


  1. I'm so glad to hear that it was negative. Also, that photo of you guys feeding the ducks is pretty adorable.

  2. Oh, what a relief! I can't even imagine how relieved you must be that Ethan's results came back negative. This mean CAKE and all other good things?!

  3. I can't even tell you how happy and relieved I am to hear this. Celiac isn't a death sentence or anything, but it just makes things so complicated. It's just exciting that he won't have to deal with it throughout his childhood and worry about it constantly. If things had gone the other way, I know things would've been just fine, too, but this amazing news :o)

  4. That's fantastic news! Makes me want to send you some whimsical unicorn poop cookies or smile-inducing strawberry and rainbow sprinkle cake batter bars as a celebratory treat! Let me know if Ethan has a favorite treat and I'd be happy to send a little surprise! www.bakeallthethings.etsy.com


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